Anonymous Amy

I am reading a book by Eric Weiner; The Geography of Bliss. The author travels to different cities around the world investigating levels of happiness. So far I have learned that Iceland and The Netherlands both are very happy places to live in. People here claim to have, for the most part, overall contentment. He does a fun job of explaining the atmosphere of the people and giving the reader a feel for why these people act this way.
In Switzerland it is illegal to flush your toilet after 10pm (according to this book anyway).
I’m not sure if this is a way to conserve water or to quiet the hysteria of midnight flushing–or what the consequence may be for rebellious flushers sinking their 1AM doodoo. Is this a crime the regional forces would come hunt you down for or is it something that causes your neighbor to have to give you ‘a look’?
Are there toilet police?
Also, I found out that one of the decisions that usually results in the most amount of satisfaction and happiness is …..breast implants.
I’m still not finished reading this. It has kept me occupied for days and is actually quite enjoyable. I like the statistics and little known facts and now I know that if I should decide to move to Iceland and get a boob job I probably won’t run into any depression.

How about you? Where were you when you were happiest?

 

spring means pedicure.

when Heidi visited in February we did the pedicure thing together; because I heard that is what girls do when they bond, so I tried it. Heidi is way ticklish and I really thought her Korean girl was going to get flung into the nail polish display. Unfortunately that did not happen and instead I got to see Heidi’s facial expression collage. A triptych non-verbal artwork entitled “excruciating”. While I was receiving a light pumice scrub accompanied by a minty tingle that made my legs feel the way my mouth does after some Crest Winterfresh, Heidi appeared to be getting a hot anal scrub. Her face went from red and squeezed to purple and open-mouthed. At one point she looked over at me, her body scrunched helplessly in the vibrating massage chair and left leg held hostage by Sado Scrubber and mouthed “oh my god *pant, pant*”, was she getting a pedicure or going into active labor? I think i saw her pray.
My pedicure, only 1 foot away from violent duress , was Baja Sunset–I had an entire 40 minute fantasy about being paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to name nail polish colors. I could dominate that field.

 

i love this.

it was summer 2006, annapolis, MD. I window shopped my way down the street while my boyfriend praddled on about how these towns are made for women. He believes men are second class citizens when it comes to stores. I agree with him and I like it. It would be nice to have a place to stick him while I peruse though.

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